Page 32 of From Duke Till Dawn
“I don’t know a—” Alex abruptly halted.
Good Christ, he meant Cassandra.
His first impulse was to have the footman throw her out. Bodily, if need be. But a voice whispered at the back of his mind.What could she want? Why would she come to me?
He rose, and Greene immediately shot to his feet. “Where is she?”
“The Cameo Drawing Room, Your Grace.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Greene,” he said to the waiting man.
“Of course, Your Grace.” Greene gathered up the papers, tucking them into a large portfolio.
Alex left him there and strode quickly down the hallway to the drawing room. He caught himself rushing and deliberately slowed his steps. Damn. He should have kept Cassandra waiting. An hour, at least. He could go back to his study, but Greene was already packing up, and going anywhere else in his home would only smack of desperate time wasting.
After tugging on his waistcoat and adjusting the folds of his neckcloth, ensuring his most ducal appearance, Alex approached the Cameo Drawing Room with a leisurely pace. He paused for a moment to gaze at a portrait of his ancestor, the third Duke of Greyland. What would this grave-eyed man think of his descendant being swindled out of five hundred pounds by a common criminal? Taken to bed and robbed like a sailor with a thieving doxy? Would he be disgusted? Or laugh with derision?
A fresh wave of anger bloomed at the thought. Furious with her, and with himself, he turned from the portrait and headed for the drawing room doors. He pulled them open the way one pulled an arrow from one’s body—swiftly and ruthlessly.
“The audacity you’ve got, coming to me now,” he thundered.
Cassandra whirled to face him, caught in midstride. She’d been pacing. Her hair was untamed, coming loose from its pins, and her eyes were equally wild as she beheld him. She looked breathless, lost.
More of her tricks. He wouldn’t be moved by them. He didn’t give a bloody damn.
But... it was the first time that she truly looked less than controlled. She was stricken, her face pale and hands shaky. Alarm rose in a red-edged wave, with anger close at its heels.
“What the devil is going on?” he demanded.
“I...” She swallowed audibly. “I’ve got nowhere to go, no one to take me in.”
He started at her sudden admission. “Seek the comfort of your friend, Hamish. If that’s his name.”
“It’s Hughes,” she choked out. “Martin Hughes. And I can’t.”
“Cheated him, too, did you?” he sneered. “Did you fuck him, too?”
She shook her head, but not before a look of disgust crossed her face. “He’s gone.” She strode to the window that faced the street and peered out from behind a curtain, as if keeping watch for someone or something. “Taken all the money from the gaming hell and disappeared.”
For a moment, Alex could do nothing but absorb this information. Then he snapped back to reality. “Another swindle.”
“Go back to the gaming hell and look for yourself if you don’t believe me.” She swung around to face him, looking positively feral. “He took his clothes, his shaving set, and every bloody penny from the hell. There’s nothing to pay back the investors, to pay the staff. To payme.Everything vanished with him.”
Alex scowled. “Why come to me?” he demanded. “I’m not your friend.”
“I know,” she said bleakly. A flare of pain gleamed in her eyes, and she turned away. “I’m... hunted.”
The word sparked a blaze of apprehension. “The hell does that mean?”
“Without the money, I’m either dead, or I’ll wish I was dead.” She paled. “They want myblood.”
“Who does?”
“The staff, the investors. George Lacey—a man you don’t want to make angry. I didn’t want to go to him for any funding,” she said quickly. “A bad reputation for taking his pound of flesh, that Lacey. But Martin said it would be all right. We couldn’t fail. We’d be safe.” She knocked her fist into her forehead. Hard. “God, why did I listen to him?”
“A pair of thieves and liars, the both of you,” Alex spat. “You’ll find nothing here. No help.” He opened the door. “Get out.”
She took a step closer. “You’re the only person in London I trust.”
